


A Very Scottish Summer

by thewritingkoala, Tina0609



Series: Tom & Hanna [20]
Category: British Actor RPF
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Family Feels, Fluff, Life with children, Married Couple, Married Sex, On the beach, Sex, Smut, Summer Vacation, Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:47:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25365598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewritingkoala/pseuds/thewritingkoala, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tina0609/pseuds/Tina0609
Summary: After a stressful few months and a fight that almost ended their marriage, Tom and Han take their family for a fun filled summer vacation.
Relationships: Tom Hiddleston/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Tom & Hanna [20]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1209162
Kudos: 23





	A Very Scottish Summer

„James Daniel Hiddleston!“

Tom looks at his 3-year-old son, who’s giving his most innocent and surprised ‚oh-oh'-look back. Both of the male Hiddleston family members know that sound in Han’s voice. It means no nonsense.

Tom suppresses a laugh at the shocked face on Jamie’s face as he sits on his daddy’s legs. He knows it won’t be anything bad, but his son doesn’t.

_“Los, hochkommen! Ich hab es jetzt schon dreimal gesagt!”*  
_

Tom doesn’t fully understand, but he takes a guess and glances at the clock above their fireplace. It’s past Jamie’s bedtime. Especially considering that they’ll have to get up early in the morning in order to make their way all the way north to Scotland for their well deserved holidays.

Han's been fully back for two months now. It still was tough, their time apart, but they’ve learned from their mistakes from months ago. Mistakes that almost ended them. He swallows. It’s in the past now. They're better now, and Jamie and Vicky are over the moon to have both their parents back.

“Papa?” There's the innocent look again. The look that Tom refuses to acknowledge Jamie’s got from him.

But it can’t help him now. Tom wiggles his legs, making his son squirm and laugh. “Sorry, buddy,” – that makes the dog look up from his place by the garden door – “I can’t help you with that.” The following pout nearly does him in. “But I’ll take you upstairs. It’s bedtime for you, little one.”

Upstairs they meet Han in the master bedroom. She’s stopped packing the last of their things and tries to look mad, but Tom sees her lips twitching at the sight of both of he men sporting the most innocent looks.

“Yeah, yeah,” she sighs with a grin. “Now, get ready for bed, please. And quiet, your sister is asleep. Papa can help you.”

Yes. They stick their tongues out at each other without letting Jamie see. Tom also throws her a wink Jamie definitely doesn’t get to see.

He turns. “Come on, Jamie. Time to brush your teeth and put on the pyjamas.” The snort behind him tells Tom Han sees the way he wiggles his butt a little bit.

* * *

Tom and Jamie take their usual places at the sink, his son on the stool that’s there just for him so he can reach the sink. With matching (mock) serious expressions, they get their toothbrushes. Tom’s is a nondescript blue one. Jamie’s has a pattern of little cars and a cover that looks like a car too. He squeezes some paste on, watching in the mirror how the little boy struggles valiantly to imitate his moves.

He’s only got one dribble of toothpaste onto his now bare chest so far. Yay for little improvements. They’re brushing in silence for a few minutes before Jamie suddenly squeaks and drops his toothbrush into the sink.

“Wha-shbrdlngh...?!” is all Tom can get out before his son hops down and races out of the bathroom into the room he shares with Wee Vicky.

Tom hot on his heels, Jamie runs all the way to the bed and jumps up and down on the spot, clearly troubled and with toothpaste now dribbled everywhere.

“Papa, Papa, help!”

Yikes, what could be wrong now?

Tom bends down, looping an arm around his wayward son and lifting him clean off the floor to salvage what’s still salvageable.

“What’s wrong, buddie?”

“Bear! Bear come tomorrow too!”

He eyes the oversized, fuzzy white bear with the snazzy red hankie tied around his neck that’s Jamie’s favourite stuffed toy. Currently, it’s lying in the crib.

“What do you mean? Bear needs to come on our trip too?”

Vigorous nodding sprays Tom in flying spittle-and-toothpaste, but honestly, he’s been sprayed by MUCH worse by his children.

Keeping the serious face that is clearly needed in such a situation, he pretends to mull it over. “Okay, Bear can come along. But you must hold on to him at all times, okay? So he doesn’t get lost. And if Mama or Papa say Bear needs to stay at the hotel for a certain activity, then you listen to us. Promise?”

“Promish.”

Well, that’s one crisis averted. This holiday will be so easy...

The rest of the bedtime routine goes by without a hitch. Clothes are changed into pyjamas - the ones not stored away for their stay in Scotland - and then Tom does his best with the reading of Jamie's currently favoured bedtime story.

A short moment later his son is sound asleep and Tom can successfully make his way from the small bed and out of the room. He's 41 now, and at times like these he feels it. He'd only admit it to Han if she offered him Hobnobs though.

After a quick check on Vicky - she's clutching the blanket and her favourite toy as well - Tom makes his way downstairs. He's heard Han making her own way to the lower floor a few minutes earlier. She's done a lot today and during the last week in preparations for their trip. She deserves some good wine and an early night. Well. It's just gone 8.

"Is he asleep?" she asks, startling Tom a bit as he makes his way into the living-room. Han's on the couch under a blanket and obviously had the same idea as Tom as there are two glasses of red wine waiting on the table.

"He is," Tom nods. He makes his way over, plops himself down next to his wife and pulls her feet up on his thighs. "We're going to take Bear by the way."

Han's laugh is soft, her voice not at all surprised. "I thought so. I heard him in his room," she smiles.

Tom grins. "It's rather important and very dramatic."

"I wonder where he got that." Then she laughs and giggles and gasps as Tom pulls at her feet and tickles them. "Tom, no!"

"Tom, yes! Take it back!"

"Never!"

There are tears forming in her eyes from laughing so much, and Tom can't help but join her. Tickling forgotten, he drops Han's legs and changes positions instead. As he hovers over her they're both breathing heavily and then lock eyes, smiling at each other.

"Take it back?" he murmurs, now leaning down and nuzzling her neck with his nose, inhaling her fresh scent.

"Hm. Never."

“Guess I’ll have to use some more persuasive methods then...”

Tom winks, positively twinkling down at her. Instead of tickling her again, he drags a big hand down the outside of her thigh, hooks it beneath her knee and draws her leg up and around him. Now he’s nestled perfectly between her legs, keeping her down with his weight.

His hand creeps up again, this time on the inside. Goodness, even through the clothes, that feels way too nice.

“Never,” Han repeats, sounding a bit too breathy to be convincing.

“Uhuh.”

Without warning, Tom leans down to capture her mouth. She opens immediately to the firm pressure and their tongues meet. As the kiss rises to fever pitch in record speed - not surprising, they’ve learned to be QUICK with two children in the house - she feels something twitch and harden against the cradle of her thighs.

When they break for air maybe a minute or an hour later, Han grins weakly up at Tom, whose pupils are now dilated.

“Very persuasive, Mr. Hiddleston.”

“Oh, I’m just getting started, Mrs. Hiddleston.”

As his mouth latches onto her sensitive neck and she arches beneath him, a thought flickers through Han’s mind: _Better get this out of our system now, before the trip ruins all chances at intimacy..._

And so her hands slide down Tom’s back and squeeze his butt.

The answering moan is almost more than Han can handle. Tom's breath is hot on her neck, coming out in puffs.

They're both still clothed, it's just gone 8 p.m., and the two full wine glasses are still on the table.

_Funny_ , is Han's fleeting thought, _how everything can be so ordinary and yet they want each other so much._ Just how much, Han can feel poking against her centre.

"Han," Tom whispers against her skin, and when he bucks into her with his lower body he also searches Han's lips with his.

"Mhhhh, yeah." She's not sure if it's an answer to Tom saying her name or to the way he moves against her, encouraged by her hands on his arse. But she doesn't really care, she's too occupied kissing him, nibbling on his lip and maybe get a bite in somewhere.

And then it's her turn to whisper -- well, moan -- Tom's name when she feels his fingers pressing against her core through her sweatpants.

The blanket that she used to wrap her body in is now pushed to the far end of the couch and Han decidedly feels like a teenager making out in her parents' house.

"Clothes off," she gets out as they both grind against each other. She rolls her eyes at Tom's answering snicker against her mouth. "I mean it, Hiddleston. Get me naked. Now," she mumbles.

"Eager, are we?"

Han's grin is smug when Tom stops talking and groans instead, caused by her hands squeezing his butt with her simultaneously arching her back and pressing her hips against his.

"You better be eager, too."

And oh, is he ever.

Tom nearly falls off the couch in his haste to get relatively naked (he’s learned that quickies are safest when one can quickly pull one’s trousers back up, thank you very much), and Han isn’t any more graceful.

But it doesn’t matter. Because amid quiet snickering and not-so-quiet moaning whenever their bodies touch, they manage. And then it’s (mostly) skin against skin and his fingers encounter slick heat.

Han sinks her teeth into his shoulder as he gets her even slicker, and there might have been some begging on her part and groaning on his part.

And then Tom thrusts, sinking himself to the hilt and gnashing his teeth because it feels way too good. Will it ever stop being like this, so...well, magical? He doesn’t think so.

And then he doesn’t think at all because Han’s inner muscles clamp down on him and they’re moving. Grinding and bucking. He scoops her closer in his arms and muffles a curse against her neck, sucking for good measure.

And suddenly, it’s all over, both of them panting like marathon runners. He feels a woozy glow descend but in his haze manages to roll them to their sides - without falling off the couch, isn’t he a champion? - so he doesn’t crush his wife.

He’s half nodding off with her all sated in his arms when she sits up with a half-yelp, in turn making him yelp.

“ _Oh Mist, das hab ich ganz vergessen!_ ” **

“What?! Where, who?” Tom blinks, tugging his trousers up as a mostly naked Han shoots off the couch. Belatedly, he realizes they’re still alone and she’s said something in German that might or might not mean ‘forgotten’.

“Plasters! I forgot to pack the damn plasters. Just in case.”

With that, Han is off to add yet another important item to their ever-growing list of luggage. Snort-giggling to himself, Tom rights his appearance. It’ll be the trip of his lifetime, he’s sure of it.

* * *

What were they thinking? Seriously, what the heck went through their heads at the time. A six-hour long drive with a dog in his box in the boot of the car, two children (under the age of 4, mind you) in their back seats and more than a week of holidays with all of that ahead of them. Never mind the luggage, bags and food everywhere in their car.

For real, had they been in some sort of sexual haze when Tom and Han made the decision to go to a Scottish beach for their holidays? Or were they simply relieved they'd still been a couple?

No matter what it was that brought them to do this, now they're on the road, it's 7 a.m., they've been in the car for an hour and possibly her thoughts are written on her face. Because after Tom's put the travel mug in the holder between them, he takes her hand that's resting on her thigh and squeezes.

"Hey, love. It's all fine."

Head dropped against the head rest, Han turns it to her right to look at her husband. He's looking at the road, but there's a definite smirk on his lips.

"I'm sure we've forgotten at least one thing for each of us and possibly to lock the door. I've been awake since 4. Our children will be wide awake when we arrive. I'm certain there'll be one of them vomiting in the car at some point today." The smirk just gets bigger. And Han can't help to grin along. She knows she sounds ridiculous. She knows she should be enjoying this. But Han also knows her family.

Tom looks at her, and she can see the twinkling in his eyes and how he suppresses a laugh. "Then we'll deal with all of it. We need this, Han. We really do."

She nods. "Yes. I know. And --"

"Mama?"

"and I know --"

"Mama!"

They have a deal. Teaching the children that you don't interrupt whenever someone else is talking, no matter if you're a child or an adult, no matter what you want. You at least let the other person get their sentence out.

"... That we'll manage," she rushes out, before rolling her eyes and turning around in her seat, looking at her son, who's staring intensely at the pancake in his hand. She smiles. "What is it, love?"

"That's _bäh_."

"Bäh?" It's the German word she's taught the children for letting them know something is disgusting. Tom would probably use 'yuck'. "But it's a pancake."

"It cooooooold."

"I know. But we had to make it this morning, because we're going to be driving for a while, ok? It still tastes good, Papa made sure of that. So please eat it, we'll get something warm for lunch."

Jamie scrunches up his little face, while Vicky looks at him curiously, her little fingers reaching out to get a bit of the pancake as well. Of course that's the moment the slightly older Hiddleston Volume 1 decides he indeed wants to eat the food that was so disgusting a moment ago.

Cue the sad face Vicky manages so well.

Han hastily turns around and gets a glimpse of the grin Tom sports. "Told you," she mumbles just before she lets go of his hand and rummages in her bag to find the healthy crackers she's packed for their little girl. Just in time as it turns out, since that's the moment Vicky pipes up from her seat.

"Mama? Food!"

* * *

A few hours - make that an eternity - later, Tom is pretty sure he’s going to yell at someone if he hears “are we there yet?” one more time.

Seriously, he’s got the patient of a saint. Gotten more saintly as their family grew. But even saints are allowed to lose their patience eventually, right? Right?!

“Mama?” comes Jamie’s voice from the backseat, just as whiny as a few minutes - or hours? - ago, but with a certain wobbly edge that makes Tom forget to yell.

Han exchanges a look with him before replying with a miraculously patient, “ _Ja, Schatz?_ ”***

“ _Mir’s schlecht_.”****

Tom wonders for a second whether ‘schlecht’ can mean something else apart from ‘bad’, and then he doesn’t have time to wonder anymore because his wife whirls into action, screeching while turning around and nearly strangling herself with the seatbelt.

“Stop. Stop the car. Right now, Tom. Stop.”

What does she mean, stop? They’re surrounded by cars on a busy road, there’s nowhere in hell he can stop anywhere here without causing an accident of epic proportions.

He’s about to tell her just that when the accident of epic proportions happens - in the backseat. There’s the sound of retching, a miserable moan, and the unmistakable splatter of vomit on clothes and seat. There’s Vicky going “eeeewww”, and Han mumbling soothing words in English amid somewhat-less-soothing curses in German.

Fuck. Tom does his best not to lose his grip on the steering wheel while breathing through his mouth. The last thing they need on top of a puking kid is a sympathy-hurling dad. Fuckity fuck!

A few minutes later Tom does manage to stop the car, all the way on the left side, hazard lights on, and with the doors now open. The relative quick possibility to stop the car could have come from Han making it crystal clear that should Tom even think about vomiting in sympathy she would let him drop her off right there and then, she would get a cab all the way back to London -- with Tom paying for it -- and leave the children and the mess in the car for Tom to deal with.

So, he pulled over.

Now, they’re all on the other side of the guard rails, Han is holding Jamie up, trying to not let his puke stained clothes cling to him, and rubbing his stomach soothingly, all while muttering encouraging words. Tom has Vicky in his arms, distracting her by letting her play with strands of his hair. At least it’s not his beard, and thankfully it’s only little Jamie with an upset tummy.

“It’s motion sickness,” Han concludes. “I don’t think he’s eaten anything none of us had as well.”

“So,” Tom asks, shifting Vicky a bit so she’s not making him fully bald -- his family is going to manage that all without actually pulling his hair -- and already dreading the answer, “what’re we going to do then?” Sure, he’s always glad to have Han by his side, wouldn’t have it any other way, but he’s never been so happy to have her with him as he’s now.

“How much longer?” is the answer and simultaniously a question he’s heard about twenty times today. He refrains from rolling his eyes.

“A bit over an hour.”

By now, Jamie’s calmed down, no more food coming up the wrong way, and Han sits down on the guard rail, pulling their son in her lap. “Okay,” she mumbles, and Tom’s not sure if she means him or Jamie. Or maybe both of them? Vicky tucks on his hair again. At least she’s not getting too heavy yet. Who knows how long they’re going to stay here? Han does, probably.

“I have drops to calm him and his tummy down a bit, maybe they’ll make him tired, so he sleeps through the motion sickness.” Of course she has, she practically packed an entire pharmacy in those bags of hers. “And maybe it’ll help to put him in the front seat, so he can see out of the windscreen.” Han scrunches up her face, and they share a look of disgust, before risking a glance to the car.

“We’re cleaning that up, right?”

Han raises her brows as an answer, nodding to Jamie in her lap. “I’m going to clean _that_ up.”

“Ah, the car’s all me then.”

His wife grins. “All yours.”

So, that’s what they do.

Tom entertains Vicky some more while Han picks out new clothes for Jamie to wear. He’s not looking fully green anymore, but Tom still doesn’t trust that peace. When Jamie’s changed, Han takes both the children and sits with them on their jackets in the grass -- Tom’s big moment is quickly approaching. He takes one big breath, all their remaining water bottles, gets the car seats out, drowns them in the water, wets a cloth Han’s packed as well of course, and cleans the car.

He’s not vomiting, and that counts as a success.

Ten minutes later they’re on the road again, Han and Jamie swapped places, and their little son has a bowl in front of him, in case he gets sick again. Tom’s torn between going just that little bit faster and going slower in case it upsets Jamie again.

Fuck it all, he deserves these holidays. Now more than ever.

Another eternity-and-a-half later, Tom breathes a little easier.

They’ve arrived without any more vomiting, thank heavens for that small mercy. Everyone still seems to have all limbs, Vicky is napping in Han’s arms, and he is complimenting himself on not yelling at anyone or totaling the car when the two Little Hiddlestons started bickering and pulling each other’s hair.

Now they’ve checked into their charming, cozy BnB and he’s stretching his long legs. Jamie is bouncing on the bed, Han is by the window, enjoying the view, and Buddy out of his box is sniffing things as enthusiastically as a cocaine addict with his line. Ah, bliss.

They couldn’t book the hotel Ben had recommended because of the family dog, but Tom would’ve had a mutiny on his hands if he hadn’t allowed Buddy on the trip, so they’ve made do with this beautiful inn. No cooking for Han, Tom’s promised himself not to take job-related phone calls (okay, he might, who is he kidding?), and there’s going to be lots of time for exploring nature.

With a content sigh, he stretches his arms over his head to work out the kinks. They’ll all need a shower now for not even all the flowers and freshly washed linen in their two joined rooms can completely mask the last remnants of puke stench. But right now, he’s waaaay too lazy to move the ten steps into the bathroom.

He’s going to just lounge sprawled on this couch for the rest of the holiday. Yes, sir.

“ _Papaaaa_?”

Okay, maybe not...

Han can see what's going to happen next possibly even before Jamie knows what he'll be doing. Call it parental instinct or simply experience. But she can see it on his face.

Tom doesn't react quickly enough for Jamie's taste, as the little boy stops jumping on the bed and comes to a wobbly halt, before another demand for "Papaaaa" is made.

"What is it?"

Han can see the exhaustion on Tom's face, and she can't blame him. They've all been busy, and boy do they need the quiet. Well. Maybe when the children are in bed.

"I want ice-cream."

And there it is. Han watches on from her place by the window, Vicky clinging to the sleeve of Han's t-shirt with one tiny hand and still breathing deeply in and out in her slumber.

She's not going to interrupt. Tom himself was demanded, and he knows as well as she does that there's no ice-cream to be had. First of all, Jamie puked not even two hours ago. Plus, they simply don't have ice-cream with them.

"Sorry, Jamie. No ice-cream for you." Tom's sitting on the couch now, exchanging a glance with her and then facing his son again. "Not for us either. We don't have it. We're going to buy some this evening, okay?"

"No."

Tom stares, and Han hides a snort. "No?"

"Not okay. I want it." The chin wobbles, but the defiant stare stays on.

Han sees Tom taking a deep breath. "You don't 'want it', you ask, if you can have some. And I said no, because we don't have any here. If you're hungry, we're going to put together some sandwiches for lunch now, and then tonight when your tummy is fine again and when we're out, you can get an ice-cream cone. Yes?"

"No."

Now, Han turns back to the window in order to hide her grin. She shouldn't feel smug about this. And they're in this together. But damn, if this isn't what Diana warned her about, speaking from experience with Tom as a small child. Just like his Papa.

Tom takes a deep breath. He’s kind of used up all of his patience and his deep breaths today already but it seems he’s going to need more of both. Also, he can totally see the grin Han is trying to hide so he squares his shoulders.

“Why no?” he asks his son.

Blinking. “Want ice cream.”

“Yes, we’ve established that, buddy. But I also told you it’s not possible now. Why don’t you forget about the ice cream and we’ll go on a tour of this place. I’m sure there’s all sorts of adventures to be had.”

“No ‘ventures. Ice creeeeheam!”

Oh dear, the chin wobble is now accompanied by a high-pitched whining and shiny eyes.

Tom gulps. Alright then, there’s no easy way out of this.

“James Daniel Hiddleston,” he says sternly, an echo of his father using his full name in his head. “You’re a good boy, aren’t you. You listen to what your Mama and Papa say. Because we know best and we get to make the decisions until you’re as old as we are and can eat all the ice cream whenever you want it. Or probably not even then.”

More blinking, a pitiful snuffle, then a defiant chin lift. “Don’t care. Want ice cream NOW. Not when I’m old.”

Oh jeez... Time to bring out the big cannons.

“You know what happens to disobedient little boys who whine about ice cream when there’s so many other fun things to do?” he asks, trying out his best glower.

More chin-wobbling and a tiny shake of the head.

“They don’t get to have as much fun as the rest of the family on this trip, that’s what happens. And it’s your first trip EVER, just think about that. How would it feel if we all had a HUGE amount of fun and you just a tiny one with that ice cream now? Hm? Are you sure you want to miss out just because you’ve decided to be naughty?”

More chin-wobbling. Jamie's eyes fill with tears, and his cheeks turn red.

"I wanna have fuuuuuuuuuun. Pa-ha-paaaa. I wanna have fuuuuuun." Tom cringes. It was just a matter of time, really, for the tantrum to happen. "Wanna go with you!"

"Okay," Tom says softly. "Of course you'll come with us. You don't have to cry over it, yes?"

A sniffle and a hiccup are the answer. Tom shares a smile with Han, who's carefully rocking Vicky in her arms now, mouthing a 'well done' in his direction.

"Wanna ice-cream too."

Refraining from rolling his eyes, Tom turns to his son. "It's the last time I'm saying this, Jamie. No ice-cream now, we don't have any, and there's no way that crying will change that." Another glance at Han tells him they're on the same side and will be.

And then all hell breaks loose.

"Nooooo!" Jamie screeches. And before they can react, he's on his stomach on the bed, flailing arms and legs all around. And more isn't understood as Jamie screams into the blanket. It must be something along the lines of "ice-cream" and "fun" and "not alone".

They're all tired, Jamie must be too, this is the last stage before crashing. Tom and Han know this, at this point he's just happy it doesn't happen in a supermarket. Han looks strangely relieved too. And then they share a soft smile again and a nod of understanding. Not letting him handle it alone now, they're on the same page.

But just as Han comes closer to a wailing Jamie and opens her mouth to say something, their wee daughter has something to add as well.

"Mama?" It's no crying, but she sniffles, rubbing tired eyes. "Loud."

His wife sighs and draws soothing circles over the little girl's back. "I know. It's fine. Are you still tired?"

The rest of the murmurs are drowned out by Jamie's wailing.

Goodness. Seriously?

Tom knows his son is exhausted and probably also overwhelmed and despite all the exhaustion also wound-up with anticipation. He really gets it. Heck, he is no five-year-old but he feels like that with all his adult adventures too. But, seriously?!

Sending a thought to his poor mum who must’ve braved endless challenges like this, Tom walks over to Han and wee Vicky. He drops a kiss on each of his favourite ladies’ foreheads, praying that his daughter won’t start wailing in about the same decibels as a siren too.

Then he makes a spontaneous decision and plonks himself on the bed next to his flailing, sobbing, shouting offspring.

“Jamie? If you don’t stop right now, I’m sending the tickle monster after you.”

There’s the briefest of snuffly pauses but then the wailing recommences. And so Tom tackles the little body to the bed and digs his fingers in, somehow managing to find all the tickly spots.

And somehow, thank heavens, the tantrum abides and the only tears being cried are the sniffles of laughter. Both of them finally flop down on their backs, side by side with chests heaving. Disaster averted?

* * *

"Are they still asleep?" Han whispers the next morning, cuddled up to Tom. He hasn't opened his eyes yet, but by the way he's smiling and pulling her a bit closer to him, Han can tell he's awake.

"Haven't heard them yet," he mumbles back.

"Hm." She pushes herself up with one arm on Tom's chest and risks a glance at the clock on the bedside table next to the double bed that'll be their sleeping place for the next couple of days. Well, the double bed is the couch during the day, the children sleeping in the other room. She groans as she drops her head back on Tom's chest. "It's just gone 7.30."

She more feels than hears the chuckle leaving Tom. "Just how long do you think we have until they're in here?"

"Well, they were tired out yesterday."

Indeed, they were. Jamie fell asleep after the 'tickle monster' got him, luckily forgetting his hunger for ice-cream for the moment. And then after a stroll through the town and a quick visit to the beach and a lovely dinner in the inn, the day caught up with the two children. And the two adults as well, to be honest.

"Hm-hm. You think they're up for the beach today?"

Han chuckles and drops a kiss on Tom's chest as he pokes her ribs. "Are we up for the beach?"

"We will be."

"Yeah," she sighs. "We will be."

As they snuggle closer, Han feels herself drifting off again, letting out a murmured "Love you" as Tom kisses her hair.

"Love you too."

They stay like that for a few more minutes, enjoying the silence and the peacefulness of the morning.

At least for a bit, before the door to the other room flies open and two pairs of feet come running to the bed.

Han barely has time to open her eyes, and then her two children are in bed with her and Tom.

"Mama! Papa!" Jamie demands in a volume that's not fitting for 7.30 in the morning. "Can we go see the water?"

So that’s what they do...go see the water. It takes them almost an hour to be ready, actually.

Because there’s breakfast to be eaten and breakfast to be fed. After-breakfast cleaning to be done. Clothes to be worn. Dashes to the bathroom to be made. A picnic basket to be packed. Buddy to leashed.

But now they’re here and it’s pure bliss. Has been for almost two hours.

Han fidgets with her sunglasses and props herself up on her elbows. She’s been lying on their giant towel - it really is giant, as if a family of Hulks was going camping - and enjoying the sun. It isn’t exactly quiet cause they’re not alone on the beach and cause Little Hiddleston Volume 1 and 2 as well as Big Hiddleston are up to mischief, but it’s relaxing nevertheless.

Feeling a bit snoozy but wanting to enjoy this, Han scans the vicinity for her three musketeers. There they are, not too far away. But wait, something looks off. She quints, wondering if it’s the sunglasses. Doesn’t Wee Vicky look a bit too...well, wee? Nudging the shades up to rest on her hair, Han stares some more.

Yup, her daughter seems to have shrunk in size. It takes her some more squinting to realize what’s going on. Apparently, Jamie has decided that making sand castles is too boring. So he’s been methodically burying his little sister in the sand, although - thankfully! - only her lower body while she sits with unusual patience and watches on, her little hands snatching at the so unfamiliar sand.

Oh, boy. Should she step in before this gets out of hand? Or will Tom?

Speaking of the devil... He’s just emerging from where he’s apparently been crouching or kneeling on the sand, working with childish absorption and delight on his own sand castle of epic proportions. Han bites her lip to stifle laughter when she sees Tom’s alarmed expression as he finds out what he’s been missing. She can’t hear much cause he’s keeping his voice down but it looks as if he’s scolding their son while digging their daughter free with his big bare hands.

Then Han thinks she can hear the word ‘Mama’ and spontaneously decides to play ignorant so she plops back down and pretends to doze.

* * *

Shit, shit, shit.

Of course Tom doesn’t utter it out loud. There are children present after all. Admittedly, one child is currently buried under a lot of sand. Though Vicky looks much more displeased now as she’s being freed from her evil brother’s clutches.

Ok, not evil. Actually, right now he’s looking like a little angel, all smiley and innocent. But Tom’s not easily convinced by it. And goodness, Han won’t be either.

He risks a sneaky glance her way, all while still digging Vicky out and keeping Jamie sat next to his sister.

Good. Han’s on their blanket, oblivious to the chaos they’ve almost found themselves in. Buddy is lying next to her in the sand, looking almost as relaxed as Han.

“Papa?” It’s a bit wobbly again, but he’ll just have to deal with that now.

“Yes, Jamie?”

“Can I play with Vivi in the sand again?”

Should he be horrified or laugh out loud? Probably both. Or none of it. So, instead Tom digs Vicky out all the way and rests her on his knee. God, she’s sandy everywhere. Not even playing in the sand could have done that to her. What to tell Han?

Speaking of. “Nope, Jamie. No more playing, if you want to bury her. We’ll go back to Mama for a while, yeah? She’s got biscuits.”

Both his children’s faces light up, Vicky is almost clean, and Jamie doesn’t look too disappointed. All should be fine then.

Tom rises with Vicky in his arms and takes Jamie’s hand, his son clutching the little shovel in his other one.

“And remember what I told you? About Mama?”

Jamie nods. “Not tell Mama.”

Fine, he remembers. That should be easy then.

Han’s relieved she only pretended to be asleep, because hell, she would have been in for quite the scare right now otherwise. As it is, she’s still surprised when there’s suddenly a small body barrelling into her, hands gripping her shoulders and knees making a home in her belly.

“Oi!” she exclaims, making Jamie laugh with glee as he tries to tickle her. She laughs a bit louder than necessary and pleads for him to stop a bit more forcefully, but he’s her 3-year old wanting to play. What else could she do?

Han opens her eyes and gets rid of her sunglasses in order to really look at Jamie. His little shovel is now lying next to the towel and he’s looking down at her, a toothy grin on his face, before he leans forward and buries his face in Han’s shoulder.

She smiles softly, inhaling the scent of sunscreen and saltwater while she rubs his back and looks to the side to find Tom. He’s a bit back, Jamie must have let go quickly. Tom’s got Vicky in his arms, his face a mask of pure innocence, his fingers fumbling with her diaper, seemingly trying to get rid of the leftover sand.

Han smirks and pokes Jamie in the side just as she knows Tom’s close enough to hear her asking, “What did you do over there? Did you have fun?”

Jamie bites his lips. Han is torn between laughing and feeling guilty for trying to make him crack. It’s worth the look of horror on her husband’s face though, and she’ll make sure Jamie will be rewarded with ice cream today.

“Uhm,” their son mumbles. “Builded a castle!” His little face lights up.

“Ooooh, a castle? With sand?” Nodding. “Lots of sand?” More nodding. “And did you build it alone, or did Papa help?”

“Papa helped.” Even more nodding and now a small hand rubbing his cheek. Han moves her head along, this is a serious matter, it seems.

“And what did Vicky do? Did she help?”

“Uhm...”

But before Jamie can say anything else, Tom’s there, plopping down on the towel beside them. “She watched. Vicky watched.”

Han smirks.

Keeping herself from asking him some more - cause really, that panic was pretty obvious despite Tom’s acting skills - Han gets up, bouncing Jamie once before setting him down.

“Well, the sand on this beach really seems to be very persistent...if watching gets you so sandy.”

“Sandyyyyyyy!” Vicky pipes up, making Han smirk some more.

“Yup, VERY sandy,” she says lightly, smacking some grains off her little daughter’s.

A glance at Tom out of the corner of her eye confirms he’s exchanging a still panicky look with their son.

Han decides to have some mercy. Ruffling Tom’s and Jamie’s hair, she motions to the ocean.

“How about exchanging being sandy to being wet, hm?”

Jamie is blinking, Tom is looking hopeful, Vicky is still softly crowing “sandyyyyyyy” to herself.

With a last grin, Han calls out “Last one in the water is a looooser!” and begins to run. She knows Tom will make sure their kids won’t get overwhelmed with the water and waves. She trusts him. And she’s already forgiven them the little burying incident because really, it could’ve happened to her too.

Happy laughter and squeals sound behind her as she feels the ocean lap at her feet. Ah, holiday bliss!

Han did win the race to the water eventually. But Tom still swears it was only because he was so stunned – and panicked, but he can’t tell her that – and had to pick up two children to race after her.

The rest of the day luckily went by without another major accident. Vicky got a nappy change and Jamie a trip to the local loo by the beach and nobody talked about sand anymore. Well, Vicky seemed to like that word a lot, but they were on the beach after all, so Tom could just give that as a reason.

And then they went to their rooms, all of them needing a shower after – yes – all the sand and to wash away the smell and feeling of saltwater and sunscreen on their skin. The children were dead on their feet when they were done with the shower and gladly went down for a nap after some sandwiches for lunch.

Han threw him glances, Tom could tell. But he hid it. So well. And then she was so very eager to get Jamie ice cream. Suspiciously eager actually.

So, here they are. Tom will probably need another shower when they get back from the dinner they’ve planned after their walk around the town. Vicky somehow got her hands on quite a bit of that ice cream Jamie oh so eagerly accepted from his mum. And now she’s got those hands in Tom’s hair, sitting on his shoulders and holding on to him.

Jamie has one hand in Han’s and the other around the cone. Tom and Han are close to each other, shoulders brushing, her hand in the back pocket of his shorts. He likes the feeling, not just because he always likes his wife’s fingers close – or on – his butt, but also because they feel so carefree and flirty and not caught up in the everyday life of a family with two children and lots of work to do.

They giggle together, tease each other and joke with their children. The Little Hiddlestons laugh along and even stopped bickering for this late afternoon. So far at least.

“Did you have a nice day, Jamie?” Han asks.

“Hm-hm.”

“What did you enjoy most? The castle?”

“Vicky.”

Tom tenses, making the little girl above him gasp, and when he glances at Han he can see her suppressing a grin.

“Oh, you liked Vicky helping you?”

“Nuh-uh. I liked when she was in the sand.”

Tom is pretty sure he looks like his own son looks when he’s (literally) caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Only guiltier...

This beach weather sure is hot, right? Even if they’re not somewhere tropical. Cause he’s sweating.

“Yeah, when she was SITTING in the sand,” is what he finally manages to stutter with a much too long delay, trying to glare at his innocent little traitor of a child cause Han would catch.

Han, whose mouth is all twitchy and whose eyes are a bit too big and gleaming for his taste. Not that he doesn’t always find his wife’s eyes beautiful.

Ah hell, he’s going to be roasted over an open fire tonight, isn’t he? A Hiddleston bonfire on the beach. With lots of - wait for it - sand.

Tom gulps, ready to stammer something else before Jamie can look any guiltier for blurting out the truth - when something catches his eye.

Squinting and automatically tensing, he checks. Yup, definitely the glint of a badly concealed camera lense across the road. He has no idea how but it seems that the paparazzi have sniffed them out on their holiday.

And for once in his life, Tom can’t bring himself to care much. Cause as long as they leave him in piece, they can post whatever happy-family-with-ice-cream pic they want. He’s off duty, he’s with those I love. Fuck ‘em!

“Han?”

“Mhm?” Still looking too much as if she’s right onto him, she doesn’t even shift her gaze an inch.

“Paps. Over there.”

Now she does follow the direction of his glance as he can feel Vicky probably pulling out a hank of the few hairs he’s left on his head.

“Ah well...” Han shrugs - and then surprises the hell out of him by murmuring “ _Idioten_. So give them something more to shoot.” She leans in and pecks him on the cheek before giving his butt a squeeze and steering them on.

Saved by the paps. Not something he’d ever thought he’d experience...

Usually, Han would have quite a few words more for those who call themselves photographers or worse journalists.

But first of all the children are present, plus today she can’t really be bothered. If they don’t have anything better to do than driving up to a small town in Scotland to take pictures of Tom and his family eating ice cream, then so be it.

She can deal with it as long as the children can. And they don’t seem to mind with Vicky now happily bouncing on Tom’s shoulders and Jamie finishing his ice cream, leaving a huge chocolate brown spot on his t-shirt.

At least the pics will be cute.

Han feels Tom’s amused and somewhat perplexed gaze, and she answers with a wink. “What?” she asks, her eyes full of innocence, and squeezes once more – for good measure. “Want me to do more?” she smirks then. “I’m sure I can think of something.”

“No!” Tom rushes out. “No. No, we don’t need more. I think we’re good.” His eyes are wide though, and even his acting skills can’t hide the fact he’s swallowing heavily.

“Are you sure?” Han asks as she makes her family stop for a moment, letting go of Tom and crouching down in order to clean Jamie up as much as she can.

“I am.”

When Jamie’s clean and holding her hand again, Han stands up and laughs out loud at the look on Tom’s face.

“Don’t look so scandalised. And don’t act like I’m the one corrupting you, when it’s always the other way round.”

Just as she wants to sneak her hand into Tom’s pocket again, he grabs it instead, letting their joined hands swing between them.

“Always, huh? I beg to differ.”

“Always,” she says.

“Always,” Jamie joins in, looking quite pleased with himself.

* * *

A few days later, Han adjusts her new summer hat - it has a lovely braided ribbon - that she bought to match her new dress - it has POCKETS - feeling blissed out.

A few feet away, Tom is singing a silly song he’s just invented to little Vicky while re-applying sunscreen on her face, arms and legs. Jamie is running circles around the three of them, going “vrrrrooooommmm” because he’s holding a new toy plane in his hands and making it fly.

Yes, there’s a lot of ‘new’ in this scene. Because Tom has apparently decided that it isn’t a proper holiday if you don’t also buy lots of holiday stuff. So even though they bought lots of stuff BEFORE the trip already, they’ve basically been shopping non-stop the past few days. There are so many new toys that they’ll need a separate suitcase for them, and even I-have-three-sets-of-clothes-I-wear-all-the-time Tom bought some new clothes while he urged Han to shop to her heart’s content. So they’ve spent a huge amount of time in various shops, and once Tom gave everyone autographs cause they were recognized.

Well, they did other things too. Such as go on a short-ish hike with a very eager Tom and even more eager Buddy. Who had to be washed TWICE in the inn’s bathtub because of course he sought out the biggest possible muddy puddle and rolled around in it ecstatically - Buddy, that is, not Tom...

They also tried all sorts of food, and established very emphatically that Vicky haaaaaates everything green at the moment, Jamie loooooooooves fries, and Tom and Han are always decorated with food splatters just like at home.

A particularly enthusiastic gurgly giggle from their daughter snaps Han out of her reverie, and her smile brightens. It hasn’t been easy, juggling two kids and a dog, but between the two of them, they’ve made this holiday mostly a success and certainly a memorable event. Pity that it’ll end so soon...

Tom sets Vicky down on the blanket they brought to the park with them. Not the beach this time, but they do have a very lovely fountain the kids can actually play in, trying not to get wet. Okay, not really, they want to. But what’s a few more clothes to wash when they’ll get home? They brought enough. Plus, at least nobody is trying to bury the other one in sand, which is a plus, despite there being a sandbox close by.

On his next round flying the plane around them, Jamie collides with a very eager Buddy, falling back on his butt. Tom hides his cringe and then relaxes as Jamie starts laughing and Buddy sees it as an invitation to play with both children.

Good. That’ll have them entertained for a while.

Tom walks the few steps over to his lovely wife, accompanied by the sounds of laughing children and a barking dog. He sits down with a sigh and takes Han’s hand in his immediately. He smiles and closes his eyes, when she puts her head on his shoulder and takes a deep breath.

The voices fade out with the calmness Han brings him. He’s never been so tired on a vacation before, but it’s another kind of tiredness. No exhaustion, but the knowledge of having spent a day with people he loves and being blessed with a – finally again – happy family.

“What’re you thinking?” Han mumbles into him, and Tom feels her turning her head shortly before her lips softly touch the side of his neck.

“That I’m happy,” he whispers back. “That I’m having an amazing family, and that nothing could be better right now.”

When he feels Han’s lips against him now, Tom can tell she’s smiling. “Good to know. Me too.”

Tom turns his head just as Han reaches up. The kiss is sweet, shared by two tired parents, but it holds promises. Promises that make his heart flutter and butterflies roar to life in his belly. He shifts, angling his body and presses a hand to Han’s cheek, holding her to him.

They both sigh into each other. And just when Tom tries to make a decision – continue this, stop it before it gets out of hand, definitely continue this, or maybe at home? – Han chuckles and he’s brought back to reality.

Tom opens his eyes, Han is looking over his shoulder and then locks eyes with him again. “Your children are making their way over to the sandbox,” she giggles.

“Huh, are they?” He knows he should care. He knows, but his brain is kind of occupied at the moment, his hands still wandering along Han’s body. He can’t make himself stop.

“They are,” she nods. Tom nods along. And then nearly has a heart attack when Han bites her lip. And not just because of what it does to his body. “Maybe we should check on them. Make sure nobody’s buried this time.”

“Well, shit.”

She laughs.

**Author's Note:**

> *(Come upstairs now! I’ve already told you thrice!)  
> ** (”Oh shit, I totally forgot about that!”)  
> *** (Yes, darling?)  
> **** (I’m gonna puke.)


End file.
